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read much?

I've started to enjoy books again in my old age. Let's see if this here code works:



Well, if'n it don't ...

my catalog

Did I ever tell you?

There are days when if someone tells you, "God won't give you more than you can handle," it is perfectly acceptable to punch that person dead in the face.

If what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, I should be able to stop the world from spinning with just a stern "mom look."

I'm so proud of my kids, I could just about pee myself.

I never wanted to have kids, because of the screwed up world they'd have to grow up in ... and *that* was just the 80's!! Things would appear far more screwed up now than they were ... or I'm just more aware of it as a parent than I was as a teen.

When the world seems to be holding you under water, a hug and a kiss from a child can make it all better ... at least for a moment ... catch your breath, and keep on kicking.

Rats are way cuter up close than you might think.

Captain Jack Sparrow has got to be the best bloody pirate I've ever seen. I remember Depp from "21 Jump Street" and now we have second-generation Johnny worshippers in the house. That's a little disturbing.

I still remember our 10th grade history teacher making us memorize "antidisestablishmentarianism" but I don't recall his name.

I do remember Mr. Templin's name. He used to hum "Smoke on the Water" while we were doing quizzes. I don't really know why.

Is it really that odd to be able to bend the top part of your thumb back 90 degrees? (I mean, without using your other hand.) How is it that everyone can't do that? Why does it freak people out? I'm not double-jointed in any ways that are useful. I just have ... bendy thumbs.

I used to have pretty poor self-esteem as a teen, until I was informed that a jealous girlfriend of a boy I used to date, used to ask a friend all kinds of stuff about me, and was overheard saying in an exasperated tone, "She's perfect, except for her nose!" Ever since then I wanted to approach her and ask, "Just what's wrong with my nose? It's my dad's nose and I'm proud of it!" She changed my life for the better, and never even knew it. (Funny, she never mentioned my fivehead.)

What's a fivehead? Bigger than a forehead. Thank my dad for that one too.

I love my job. My ex used to say, "You get paid to play on the computer all day." Well, yeah. Pretty much. Check out this blog entry about graphic designers. It's all true.

growing up

(another myspace bulletin -- I write under stress *g*)

I don't remember exactly when it happened, but at some point in the last few years, I changed from the person who always tried to be someone that my dad would be proud of, to trying to be the kind of person I hope my children will turn out to be.

My dad's been gone since '92 but we still "talk" and I check in to make sure I'm on the right track. I know as recently as last summer I was still calling in favors, asking if he could put a good word in for me and chase off the rain at least long enough for my outdoor wedding.

Now that the kids are starting to turn into real people, I realize that the last place they will admit to looking for guidance on how to find their place in the world is their parents, but they are watching me all the same. Life as we know it has changed much in the past four months, and I can't just be the "silly" one anymore; I have to be the silly one AND the serious one. I have to be the firm one AND the flexible one. Oh Em Gee -- I have to set a good example.

I'm doing the best I can. As I told them, I can't guarantee that I won't make wrong choices, that seem good at the time. Only that I will learn from it, and always make the choice that is not necessarily the easy one or the popular one, but the choice that seems to be in their best interests.

Recently, on a message board aimed at parenting difficult children, there was a post about what we like best about our challenging kids. There was no lack of praise for even the most defiant, stubborn and impulsive child among them.

My children (all of them) are the best and most important thing I will ever be responsible for having a role in creating, raising and advising, loving and setting free. If you think about it, why else are we even here? We cannot live forever -- we raise the next generation and move on. We are shaping the future of the world, one life at a time.

One day, I hope my child looks back and realizes that they have tried to live a life I would be proud of. One day, I hope they try to be the people that they want their children to become. Only then, will I feel like I have fulfilled my place in this world.

Happy new year, kids!

A recent bulletin to my 3 hunnert and some myspace frens:

1. A bloodspattered emo myspace profile does NOT make you edgy or angsty. To anyone who has lived more than 19 years on this planet, it makes you look silly, at best. Getting "attention" is great. Being taken SERIOUSLY is way better. Saying fuck every third line doesn't make you more intense. Being articulate and confident makes you worth listening to. Bleeding is not a marketable talent. Get a useful hobby.


2. I don't care if you're bi. I'm frickin happy for you. But do NOT tell me you're bi, but you're not gay. If you're bi, you're gay, but simply less discriminating. If you sleep around, you're a slut, whether you're into chicks, dudes or sheep. Sluts are bad. Love is good. If you love a duck and the duck loves you, I'm happy for you both. I don't want to see pictures of you loving the duck any more than I want to see pictures of my parents making me. *gak*


3. You're whiter than Marilyn Manson. You're not from the hood, you're not even from a big city. Someone in your family probably owns cattle. For fucks' sake, stop trying to act gangsta. Violence isn't sexy. Calling women bitches and ho's is not bad ass. Getting a proper education and being successful is the shit. I highly recommend it. Unless you plan on bagging my groceries, go to college. Pay for it yourself instead of drinking away your parents' dreams.


4. Um, 13 year old girls are not "sexxiii" ... people who think that are called pedophiles, and get ass-raped daily in prison. Yes, we are aware you have hormones. You also have control, like when you use a fork or a spoon to eat dinner rather than ripping at raw meat with your hands. You should not be having sex if you're too young to VOTE "pro-life" or "pro-choice." I've got MANY friends with their own living proof that "birth control" is a sorry joke.


5. When your parents were your age, they may not have had MP3 players and internet porn and meth labs, but they dealt with being teased, not fitting in, being too short or too tall, too fat or too thin, not rich enough, not pretty enough, not athletic enough, and every other asinine high school piece of bullshit that you guys deal with -- and survived. They didn't wear the right clothes, their parents didn't drive the right cars. And they probably don't know the names of any of the jerks that messed with them, but still talk to the same FRIENDS who accepted them the way they were.



Teenagers really aren't that scary after all. The thought of them making the same mistakes as you did -- or worse -- now, that's frightening. Knowing that they think you're mean and strict and full of shit and don't know anything, because you try to help, that's frustrating. The knowledge that you can't keep them from learning things the hard way, that's just heartbreaking.


To all my teen "friends" with love ...
from the mom officially dubbed "Oh Mighty Evil One" ...
(an honor I cherish, because I care about what my kids are doing, where, and with whom, and I always will, and sometimes they'll hate me for it, and some day they'll understand)

Falling apart.

Sorry to leave my thousands of readers hanging like that. Surgery went really quite well. I was admitted Wednesday, Nov. 28 and went home after lunch Friday, Nov. 30. And by home I mean, we went Christmas shopping at three stores, then went home. And I would have gotten online that night except for a WEE bit of swelling in my left leg.

The swelling is really not so bothersome as you'd think. What really aggravates is horrendous bruising that by all accounts seems to have come directly from the leg brace I was instructed to wear for 4 weeks. Or 3, or 2, or until I didn't feel like I needed it. Considering the worst of the bruising corresponded with the steel inserts of the brace, I ditched it in less than a week.



Pretty awesome, huh? Most of it is gone now. This was one week after surgery. Oh yeah, they almost postponed surgery because my blood pressure that morning was 80 over 50. I had to convince them that is normal, for me.

The vertigo isn't so bad as it was right before surgery. It is the worst when I lie down and close my eyes, or when I am in the shower and tilt my head back with my eyes closed. Then the room spins and I feel a bit tipsy. So far, so good, on not falling and shattering my tibia into bone splinters. My blood work doesn't show anything abnormal ... blood sugar is good, cholesterol numbers are great, estrogen is within normal range ...

The bad news is, my doctor also received findings from my surgeon, regarding the fluid in my knee, and of all things ridiculous and inconceivable, I have pseudogout. Basically, all my joints are going to go to hell, sooner or later. It isn't common in my age group; only about 6% of people in their 60's have it, and the percentage only increases to 25% for people in their 90's.

I don't like to feel sorry for myself, but the concept of [continuing] chronic joint pain does not excite me. I've learned to tolerate a great deal of it, especially over the past few months. The patello-femoral joint that was replaced had been bone-on-bone for some time, and basically shredded. How I was walking, much less riding horses, is beyond me. Must be my stubborn streak. I have no doubt THAT is genetic. I don't want to be needing a walker when I'm 40.

So I sort of just quit going out hunting because I got really ill and slept 12 hours a night plus napped most of the day, all through last week. It rather sucked, really. Apparently I have vertigo in addition to needing major reconstructive knee surgery. Having an unstable knee AND getting dizzy with no warning ... WOO HOO!! Looking forward to getting this over with. Surgery is Wednesday morning, so I'll be offline a bit, but as soon as I can hobble to my Mac, you know I'll be back.

Day 7

Another dreary wet day indoors. Had to have hubby drive me to the hospital for blood work, so no morning hunt. Planning to hunt all day tomorrow; we should get fresh snow tonight which should make for a good morning hunt. Will probably be too cold for my fingers to TXT a blog from the field, though.

Day 6

Stayed in today, as I had a midday appointment. Got home from store and to my surprise, met my babygirl at the door, all in camo and orange. Hubby was on his way to take her with him for the evening hunt. Made me so happy. Wish I could be a fly on the wall of that hunting blind! ;)

Day 5 txt msg

Day 5. Babygirl w me. So excited! Hope we see deers! She was up @ 3:30 AM & in camo & orange :)

Day 4 txt msg

Day 4. Cold, dry & still. New spot. Froze this AM, saw lots o birds. Nbrs BLAM BLAM all day. We no see deers.

Day 3 txt msg

Day 3. Super quiet. Hrs of no deer. Few shots 4 1st Sat. See tails, way out. Even sqrrls quiet. Hawk swoops ovr fld. NO DEERS.

Deer-thirty. Time 2 C deer. In tree. Hard 2 climb. Hub here. Coldr. Specs fog up. Woodpkr. No deers.

Pink sqrrl sighting! Too far 4 pic. Send me DEERS!

Day 2. Quiet, no deers. Light breeze. Too still. Hubby shot nice 8pt he says. In blind I was in last nite. Grr.

No deers. No sqrrl. Few turkey.

Later, back at camp

Hunted in the afternoon as well, here's the summary:

I've been plagued with really crappy hunt season weather. Today the wind was whipping, wet snow flying horizontal, nothing moving during daylight hours. Even with all of the people in the woods surrounding our property and all of the shots we heard around us, deer weren't moving on our land.

Saw a buck for about 3 seconds ... raised his head out of the tall grass long enough to see he had a smallish rack, maybe a small 6 pt. and then he vanished. Nothing else moved during shooting light.

Now that I've discovered how to TXT MSG directly to my blog, I'll keep everyone updated that way. :}

Opening day of deer season fun ...

or, Confessions of a TXT MSG Virgin.

I've never used text messaging on my phone before. Just never saw the need.

Sitting for hours in a blind, waiting to see deer, and needing to be exceedingly quiet, the value of the TXT MSG became clear: this is how I can lovingly annoy my husband without blowing our cover.

7:12 am -- Hear things. no see. fluffy wants out. see doe. legal light? no buck. coons fighting. hear shot. turn to back tips seat. no deers. love yours.

8:06 am -- U C him? no need 2 ansr. hear crane. hear turkey. deer went twrd U far E of me. I C U P! lots of shots. hear shots. donger need food. see cat. no rum. hand cold.

9:53 am -- See sqrrl. See, pheasant? Some bird. More sqrrl. Pelting tent! OMG Pink sqrrl!! Cant photo. See cranes fly low. Hear, eagle? No deers.

11:45 am -- Turkeys! 7 or more. Cool! Need Klnx. Later... OMG must be 20 turkeys just E of me. Like ghosts. Trying 2 get pic of pink sqrrl & they appeared.

At least he understands me. :}

things are be gooder now

Life has certainly dealt quite the series of blows to my immediate family here in the past two months.

Most things, like the totalled vehicle, can be easily overcome. I'll be getting my new Saturn Aura in a few days. I had my Vue for almost exactly four years... a little less when you consider the many times it has been in for repair. Hoping that the Aura won't be as invisible to deer.

Other things will take more patience and time to work through, but we have a strong family that we are certain can pull through anything. Although our family unit is fairly new, as my husband and I race toward our two year anniversary, and the kids are likewise racing toward their teen years, we're close and we're brave, and we're up for anything that's coming at us.

It's time for some good stuff.

The skinny on skinny.

This is a skinny horse.



He is trim, but healthy and well fed. He filled out nicely on pasture, and stopped dropping grain after his teeth were floated. This is a summer photo, after taking him out of a dry lot where he shared a free-choice round bale of hay with another horse. He had to be gradually introduced to green grass, to prevent colic or founder. He had a nice protective fat layer by winter. His hooves were long, but he was sound.


This is a skinny horse.



This is a Saddlebred mare. I do not know how she came to find herself at Horses Haven rescue, but I am sure glad she did. Much more emaciated than this, and the only kind thing to do is euthanasia. Desperately malnourished horses do not always respond to attempts to "fatten them up" as their organs have already started to lose function. I think this horse wants to live.


This is a skinny horse.



While you can clearly see her ribs, her overall body condition does not look critical. She needs good food and good weather. She looks very typical of an aged horse having wintered outdoors during a harsh Michigan winter. There is a shine on her coat and a gleam in her eye. She probably looks like a different horse in the summer and fall.


This is a skinny horse.



For a young horse to be in this kind of shape in September, it must have not had access to the summer's green grass. The hooves have been neglected, and the bloated belly is a tell-tale sign of intestinal parasites; with the ribs showing, I'd guess an overload of them. The legs should straighten out some with corrective trimming. I would have to assume he had limited turn-out as hooves should wear down differently with exercise. His overall depressed look and dull coat is another sign of poor health. As he is young, he has the potential to fully recover with proper care.



Well, they're ALL skinny... so which one(s) should be taken away from their owners?



Skinny is subjective.

Some breeds are naturally more skinny than others, same with bloodlines within a breed, or types within a discipline.

Athletic horses tend to be more skinny, as do hot ones.

Acceptably skinny looks different with an older horse than with a younger, growing one.

Emaciated is never okay, for any breed.